Life's Melodies
by Harukame
Summary: A series of music based, tactician focused stories. Focus and/or rating may change later. Chapter 2: Moondance - The Tactician finds his mind muddied and confounded by drink and dance.
1. Night Session

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or game; just the setting and scenario.

Just a series of short written pieces inspired by music.

Song(s): _Venice_ by Chris Botti, from the Album _Italia_

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The cool sea breeze of the port town blows through the Tactician, his body afflicted and aflame with thoughts of loss and shame. Out on the dock he sits and lets the cold tears ripple the puddles of salt water. Closing his eyes he prays for the soldiers under his care, leery of battles and weary of war; ready for warmth, peace, and home.

Out of the monotony of the lapping waves, he hears the plaintive notes of a lone guitar. Although he turns to find the source of the humming strings, he cannot place it. Not until his eyes scan the tops of the shingled buildings. Up near the chimney and moon sits a silhouette of a man, strumming an old guitar. Though he cannot make out the man's features he can easily place the tune of a worn master's hands. As he squints to see the man clearer, the brazen sound of a horn pierces his concentration. Turning back to the dock he spies a young sailor atop the bow playing the brass; a rich and potent voice that accompanies the strumming man.

It isn't long at all before his heart is warmed by the duet; and the few wake friends emerge from the inn. Florina's timid eyes are filled with wonder at the sound; Eliwood, dressed in a plain tunic, rests beside him and reveals a smile free of worries. Mark notices Pent and Louise, as well as a few others quietly admiring the clear night sky from a window view; and Hector softly rests outside the doorway, with an appeased look on his face.

He is startled by a sudden embrace from behind. He already knows who it is by the sweet scent of grassy plains that tickle his nose. She rests her head on his shoulders and gazes out to the darkened horizon, unafraid.

With fears of the future temporarily washed away, the Tactician concludes _this small moment is fine enough. This night is precisely what we are fighting for_ and continues to listen to the horn and guitar play on.

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Hope you enjoyed, deciding whether or not to continue this


	2. Moondance

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or game; just the setting and scenario.

Note: Hoping all a very Happy New Years, and cheers to the coming days. And no, I don't drink, at least not too much.

Song(s): _Moondance_ by Michael Bublé, from the album _Michael Bublé_

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"You look a little flushed there Mark, the ale a little too strong for you?" The young Lord Hector grinned as his dark mop of blue hair glistened; illuminated by the dancing of nearby campfires.

He sat beside the lone tactician, heartily gulping down his mug. "Hmph, says the lord who always complains the drink is a little too weak and ends up drinking too much." Hector gave him a light tap on the back, which nearly caused the Tactician to fly off his seat.

"Maybe it isn't the ale that is strong, but that body of yours is weak." Hector grinned and stretched his arms, letting the sinews of his flesh ripple in an obvious fashion.

"At least my conversations aren't dulled by brute thought." The Tactician retorted.

The Lord merely shrugged off the reply. "Sticks and stones can't break my bones Mark, what do you think your words do?" And with a laugh, Hector went to join the festivities.

If anything, Mark was flushed not by the strong ale (because he knew it was strong, he just would never admit it), but because of the chilly air. Sighing a cloud of breath, he inched just a bit closer to the gathering of fires, hoping to warm himself a bit. Taking notice of Mark, the Caelin Knight, Sain cheerily hopped over to the cloaked figure.

"Resting a bit before jumping in are you?"

"I'm simply observing, as I always do. The more I know how our comrades interact, the better placement I can give whe—."

Sain rolled his eyes, ruffling the brown hair of his friend.

"Such a serious task, c'mon get your mind off such hard things and drink a bit. That is, unless you've already reached your limit…" The Green Knight gave the Green Tactician a sidelong glance.

"I'm not drunk."

"I was merely suggesting…"

"I am perfectly fine, Sain. Should you be more the one to participate? Unless you've had a little too much drink yourself."

"Ah! Such a glib tongue you have there my friend! But I shall now take my leave as you suggest, maybe you will join in a bit?"

"Perhaps…" The Tactician called out as his rowdy ally jumped into the fray. "…When hell freezes over," he finished grimly and took another swig of his drink. _The fire is not nearly warm enough_, he concluded. The amber lights of torches were beginning to fuzz in his vision, and he felt a little unsteady despite being seated firmly on his chair. _At least I've my wits about me, rather than prancing about like a fool._

His gaze drifted across the way, where he espied the Lord Eliwood, chatting amiably with some of the more…refined crowd. Mark couldn't tell whether his face was flush with the air of festivities, or that his smile was touched with some red wine. Or that Ninian was on his arm, gazing up at him with…

The Tactician turned away, slightly embarrassed at his busybody thinking; then looked down at his mug, barely he took another drink, and looked over to the dancers. Hector was jumping about like some mad beast, face red with excited blood; and with him…the Lady Lyndis. Mark wasn't sure that he could hear the music, but he was positively sure that Hector could not dance. She wasn't right for his arms, the arms of a boisterous Lord from cold stone halls and thick solid walls. No, if he was sure of anything, he was sure that their dance was not right. Mark was sure that he, he would make a much more suitable partner for—.

_No._

_No._

He put it out of his head with another gulp of the ale. It was warming him a bit now; more than the fires at least. _Maybe if I join the musicians it will take my mind off these silly thoughts._ He rummaged in his pack and found his fiddle. He marched over to where some of the other players were and jumped into the tune, the two-beat measures dancing at his finger tips. If surprised by the sight of Mark playing, Lyndis didn't show it. She swung from Hector to Kent. Mark looked up for a moment before returning back to the upbeat tune. The kind knight in Red, with the code of knights written in his bones, and loyalty burned into his heart; if anything his face now had thoughts of her written all over it. He was a bit better dancer, but his movements were stiff and practiced rather than free flowing like her… Mark stopped to wash out the adverse thoughts with another mouthful of his drink, rubbing his temples between drinking and playing.

The mug was probably down to a quarter, or so now. He wasn't sure now; the colors of the flames had started to mingle with colors of the dancers. Reds on greens, Fire on grass. The moon was still keeping a bright and watchful eye on the peoples below. The fiddle started to feel like a lump in his hands, and he had long lost the beat of the music to the beat of the dancing. Eliwood must have taken notice and walked over, helping Mark over to a nearby seat. The young Lord's cheerful laughter brought the tactician back to his senses.

"Seems you've had a bit to drink there Mark." Eliwood's tousled hair matched the flames absolutely, Mark concluded.

"Not nearly as much as Hector." He replied a bit sullenly, his fiddle held uselessly in his hands.

"You sure you're alright?" His companion looked at him with worry, but after a moment, decided it was easier to convince Hector that he was a woman than to convince Mark that he was drunk.

A bit of silence went between the two before Eliwood remarked, "Beautiful aren't they?"

Mark was certain that the Lord was talking about Ninian and some of the others dancing; but instead of giving him a discernable answer, he merely grunted. The Ale had gotten to his lips, once, twice more before Eliwood left him with a smile and joined in the dancing.

Alone again, his focused back to the dancers. Hector was now stumbling about, hopping back every time he got too close to the heat of the fires. Kent had continued his awkwardly strict form of dance. And Eliwood; Eliwood was dancing with fire. He swept up, joined, and dispersed from other dancers as quick and zealously as the bonfires. But when he joined with Lyndis, Mark couldn't help but drown out his feelings with the ale that had suspiciously refilled itself. If Eliwood was blazing like a fire; Hector broad and boastful as the sky, then Lyndis was as vast and free as the plains of Sacae.

_Then what am I?_ The tactician mused to himself. His mission of observing the other dancers was completely lost as his vision was suddenly hijacked by the figure of Lyndis walking towards him. Her face too was flushed, but he couldn't decide whether it was wine, or ale, or the addiction of the dance. He wasn't sure himself whether or not his thoughts were muddled by the sinister mixture that had decided to disappear from his cup. He wasn't sure what he was doing when he accepted her hand joined in Lyn's fierce and uninhibited dance. Perhaps if Eliwood was fire, Hector the sky, Lyndis the grass; then maybe he was wind. Perhaps he was like the wind, blowing through the grass, a passing thought to the sky and an ingredient to the fire? He didn't know; he couldn't think.

_Maybe I am a little drunk…_the thought swam around his muddied mind.

_No, No._

_I am drunk_ he conceded, a bit humbled, a bit smug; a smile painted on his face, a warm feeling in his head.

He surrendered to knowing smiles of Sain and Hector, to the knowing laughter of Eliwood, and completely to the dance and Lyndis. Beneath the moon, betwixt the fire and sky and grass, the wind danced too.

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I don't know, maybe I'm just a sucker for a jazzy beat and smooth lyrics.

Please R x R. Anything helpful is appreciated. :)


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